tell it on the hills and peaks / what has made the crackers crack the night / what has caused the birds to chirp a tune / what has chiselled a smile up our faces

up till four hours and two the other night / it reeked of burning / of tempests and of / darker shades of red and grey which / when perceived are triggers of dripping clouds / the air we breathed did have a lot of wonders

the air we breathed did flow within a frame so great / so great that we soon forgot our consciousness / as we flitted about horizons bathed in blue and . . . and red / the frame exuded a mass so "Hitler-ry" / so "chameleonic"/ so "Idi Amin"

and it wasn't long before we uncovered / a heap of the reaper's souvenir / bony hubs and grails of crimson streams / all adorning the frame that always trapped our air

at the fullness of time came a quaky bolt / soon all is hush / and calm / and green

four hours and two soon passed by / and we would turn humans again / very beings made for pops and smiles / rather than a lifetime of groans and shivers / even as we join the birds in their rare chirping chorus.

___